A Song For You
by celestehalcyon
Summary: After another unprogressive meeting, England drowns himself in his routine round of drinks. The nation's half-drunken journey back to his hotel, however, takes on a different turn when he catches a young girl in a yukata singing under the moonlight.


**A Song for You**

~oOo~**  
**

_Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz while Black Cat belongs to Yabuki, Kentaro._

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"Dammit, don' push…" England slurred as he stumbled his way out of the closing bar. He glanced at the dark building with one last withering glare before making his way across the empty streets, mumbling things without his realizing.

"Wha' kinda pub closes a' midnigh'? Tha' damn _frog's_, tha's wha'!" He punctuated that drunken yell with a kick aimed for a loose pebble on the road. However, the kick missed by a whole foot, and the poor nation toppled heavily over to the nearest wall.

Gaining back whatever bearings remained intact, he pushed a hand against the wall and scowled at nothing in particular. Damn that France. He was actually given a chance to hold the World Meeting in his country this time around, and it was just like the frog to mess it up with all the many strikes suddenly coming out of nowhere. Calling those strikes as an inconvenience would be a terrible understatement.

The meeting itself was a disaster, to be brutally frank. The bus stations and taxi companies went on strike so many of the nations were late because they had to walk all the way from their hotel. However, because the building had too many unnecessary halls with infinite number of rooms, Austria got lost while trying to find the conference room. Hungary immediately volunteered to look for him, but when the insufferable Prussia had to open his mouth, papers started flying as the two went at it again. (Fortunately for the Prussian, her frying pan didn't pass security.)

Germany wasn't much help in pacifying the two either: he was caught between their fighting and Italy's whining about being hungry and wanting some pasta or such. In the end, Hungary and Germany went to search for the lost Austrian while the Italian went along with them to make some pasta for everyone. Prussia and his little chick—no, _Gilbird_ had somehow disappeared from the room a little bit after they left. Definitely not up to any good.

This left France, the host nation, in charge.

The hand on the wall curled into a fist and England gritted his teeth. Careless Austria… Bastard Prussia… _Damn perverted frog_… Whose brilliant idea was it to even _suggest_ that the Frenchman host the next World Meeting? The Brit showed a toothy grin.

Was the whole fucking world conspiring to rub off their insanity on him?

"_Let's sing a song…_

…_The song of the Earth._

_Hold the wind in your arms,_

_Bask in the light…"_

England blinked his eyes drearily before rubbing them with the hand not against the wall. Then, scowled at himself. He must surely be drunk to tend to his sight when he definitely _heard_ it, though his catching his own mix-up seemed like a sober sign.

"_The stars are twinkling,_

_Shining down upon the streets,_

_Light and bouncy…_

_Be full of hopes…"_

The Brit looked around and found himself still alone in the moonlit streets. He raised a brow at an unlit lamppost. Was the electric company on strike too? That wine bastard really was hopeless.

"_Let's sing a song._

_Let the song of the world_

_Travel forever,_

_Looking up at the sky…"_

As the Brit stepped closer to a clearing, the voice was steadily getting louder though it sounded like it came from above… He looked up and felt his jaw slacken at the sight.

Standing just by the edge of a three-storey building was a teenage girl with short, bob-cut brown hair and bangs, hands entwined together as if in prayer. And she was wearing a kimono-like robe. England blinked multiple times before confirming that it wasn't the alcohol playing tricks on him.

"_The sound of people talking,_

_Insects jumping,_

_Light and bouncy,_

_Taking my hopes with it…"_

England moved to lean on a nearby lamppost before closing his eyes, trained ears catching every sung note. Her voice was loud enough to echo down into the streets of Paris but soft enough to convey the feeling of lightness and tranquility. It made him wonder if she was singing for herself, or for somebody else…

"_Light and bouncy_

_Tomorrow will definitely be…_

_~Light and bouncy~_

…_Reaching the sky…"_

He didn't realize her song had ended (so soon?) until he looked up and gazed back at twinkling aquamarine eyes. The nation knew his cheeks had grown redder than when the alcohol ran wildly in his system. "Er…"

The girl merely looked at him with giggling eyes and, to England's surprise, jumped off the building. He was about to run after her and… do something (the alcohol was still acting up) when the girl's figure just seemed to float slowly down onto the street and landed softly before the startled nation.

Then, England blurted, "You're a ghost."

The ghost just smiled. That smile curled as she leaned towards him slightly and muttered, "You were listening just now, weren't you." It was a statement, not a question, and whatever expression that appeared on the nation's face seemed to have amused her for the smile widened.

Looking for a distraction, the Brit gazed back up to where the ghost had been previously standing. "Why were you up there just now, and singing of all things? If you don't mind my asking, that is," he quickly added, remembering his gentlemanly manners.

The shaking of her head sent brown locks swaying back and forth for a few seconds. Then, a wink was sent his way. "I guess you can say that I'm a big fan of rooftops. And besides," she continued on a cheery note, "the moon's just so beautiful tonight and it sort of made me want to sing, you know."

She drifted off to staring at the full moon above them. England knew the sight would've been more spectacular had the stars been visible through the Paris lights. His eyes shifted to the ghost of a girl. She really was just a teenager, or at least close to the age of an adult. So young, and yet… He mentally shook his head.

His eyes then fell on the kimono she wore. "Are you Japanese, by any chance?" he muttered softly, reluctant to break the silence.

The ghost looked at him as if she didn't know what he meant. The Brit looked away from her blank gaze. "What I meant to say was, er, that kimono. I suspected that you, er, that is…"

She raised a patterned sleeve of her dress before he could stutter any more. "Oh, you mean this?" She lit up and twirled in place as she replied, "It's a yukata, actually! I wore it to a festival to watch the fireworks with a friend but…" Her smile strained for a moment and she let the silence continue her words. England could only nod.

By her actions, the nation could already tell she had been through a lot before her demise. She had an innocent air around her, though her eyes shone as if she'd seen things others normally wouldn't. She had an almost tomboyish charm yet remained well mannered. She carried on as if her life had been done to its fullest. But…

Someone had obviously killed her, the faint stains of red on her yukata evident enough. She didn't tell him – she didn't need to say it. The Brit frowned. What kind of person would do such a thing to the kind girl?

He didn't realize he had been scowling until there was a cold brush on his cheeks, a pair of ghostly eyes looking narrowly at him. "You're scowling," she stated the obvious. "That's even worse than just frowning." England blinked at her as she removed her ethereal hands from his face to place them on either side of her waist. "The world will think that you're being a grouch if you keep looking like that," she huffed.

"Well, if the rest of the world weren't such _bloody arseholes_, then perhaps I'd reconsider!" he shot back. Ha, like that would ever happen, he added in bitter thought.

The Brit half-expected the ghost to snap back at him, apologize for crossing some line or other, _anything_… but only the piercing silence met his ears. Thinking that perhaps she literally disappeared on him, which many ghosts often do, he cautioned a glance.

A patient smile greeted his gaze. "Feeling any better?" she muttered with shining eyes.

Well, he certainly didn't expect that. His mind was too trashed to work out a proper reaction. "I… you…"

The ghost's smile then turned devious. "Or maybe I should've said 'more sober'? It's a little obvious where you last went to," she replied at England's unsaid question, pointing to the nation's rather disheveled clothes. He rushed to fix his suit into a more dignified state, his cheeks blazing.

And the girl had the nerve to _giggle_ at him. "And what, pray tell, is so funny?"

She continued to suppress her laughter. "Sorry. I guess I really shouldn't laugh, but I can't help it. It's just so cute!"

"What's so bloody cute?"

"Your face!" With that, she relented and laughed aloud into the moonlit street.

However, the Brit didn't find it as amusing. "You think my face is funny?"

The laughter paused for a moment as the ghost raised an amused brow. "I didn't say that. I mean, your face is very cute!" She let out a small snort. "Especially when you're pouting like that!"

England crossed his arms at the ghost, definitely _not_ pouting, with brows furrowed. "My face is not cute! And don't be so loud! It's an ungodly hour and people are supposed to be sleeping at this time." Including a certain Brit. He really needed to head back to his hotel.

But the ghost merely winked at him again. "Aw, come on. There's nobody around and you're the only one who can even see me, remember?" She grinned at his now sullen look. "You need to lighten up, old man!"

The last sliver of patience broke with a sound snap.

"Like I said, it's an ungodly hour, and some people, such as myself, have a damn busy day ahead of them! So bugger off!" With that, England stormed away from the ghost. Note to self: ignore any sound of singing in France's place. However, she had other plans.

She easily caught up to him and, circling around him and making teasing looks, challenged, "Make me!"

That's it. "Why you…!" The Brit tried to grab hold of the ghost but his hand only went through cold air.

The ghost slipped past him with a trailing laughter, calling out, "Can't catch me, old man!"

England ran after her, yelling back, "I'm not an _old man_, you little—! I have a name, if you must know!"

She glanced back at him with a twinkle in her eyes. "Really? What is it? Mr. Grouch?"

"_No_, it's Arthur! Arthur Kirkland!" he growled back before realizing that he just fell for one of the oldest tricks in the book.

A warm smile that looked so alive appeared on the ghost's face. "My name's Minatsuki, Saya! It's nice to meet you, Mr. Grouch!"

He felt a vein throb on his forehead. "_I dare you call me that again!_"

As they went on, the empty streets echoed with the cries and yells of two running souls and the sounds of laughter flying through the cool wind, all under the watchful gaze of the full moon.

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**A/N**: Is this what you call a songfic? Probably, probably not :) But yeah, that's Saya's famous song, _Konoyo no Uta_, or in MiNdBOx's translation, _Song of the World_. I know there's the English dub's version, but I like this translation better.

Again, this is a stand-alone crossover with no real rhyme or reason x)


End file.
